Inconvenient truths
by Kate McK
Summary: The truth is inconvenient most of the time. An inconvenient truth is the one which you dare not disclose. My name is Sarah Walker. I am a spy.
1. Prologue

**Inconvenient truths**

A/N: "I thought it was obvious by now that I have no idea what I'm doing." Mary Shannon – In Plain Sight. I don't own Chuck.

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Prologue

The truth is inconvenient most of the time. An inconvenient truth is the one which you dare not disclose. Not even to closest. Most times not to them. But as you try to conceal the same, you continue to suffer for fear of getting disclosed. It's like trying to hold a beach ball under water. You get tired of the effort and eventually fail to keep the ball under water or drown trying.

My name is Sarah Walker. My name is not Sarah Walker. I am a spy.

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In khaki shorts and a white top she looked just like any other tourist browsing through the various articles on offer in the bustling market. Popping a blue berry in her mouth she took a moment to savor the taste all the while discreetly scanning the café-lined promenades of the Ljubljanica River. It was her first time in Slovenia, but she didn't take the time to admire the baroque and Art Nouveau buildings lining the streets or the castle overlooking the city. Bringing a hand up to wipe the sweat from the back of her neck she turned a little.

"My three o'clock. Red umbrellas. Second table from the left. Black chinos, blue button down."

Her earpiece crackled. _"I have visual. Are you ready?"_

"Always." She moved to the next stall keeping the mark in her peripheral vision.

"_He's on the move. You're up."_

She slipped her hand into her bag and found her phone. Fiddling with the buttons she mentally counted her steps. The impact happened exactly as calculated.

"I'm so sorry." She sounded genuinely apologetic but didn't look up. Bending down to retrieve the items scattered over the cobble stones she suppressed a smile at the predictability of it all.

"No, no, it's my fault. Let me help." For the first time she made eye contact, a small smile forming.

"Thank you." She watched his hands deftly collecting a lipstick, a packet of tissues and small notebook. At the same time she kept an eye on the briefcase he put down beside him.

"_Now."_

Stepping out of the line of fire, she grabbed the briefcase seconds after the body hit the ground. Making her way through the chaos that erupted, she reached one of the medieval alleys and took off running. She stopped at the first dumpster and opened the case. She pocketed the microchip, yanked of the red wig, stuffed it in the case and wiped the handle before burying it under the garbage.

It was a short walk to the railway station. She boarded the train for Bled. Bryce would meet her there for their extraction to DC. He never made it.

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Sarah took a seat across Director Langston Graham. He slid the small red box towards her. "I need you to deliver this."

"With all due respect, Director, I wasn't aware courier services were part of a field agent's job description." She was taken aback. Not because Bryce didn't leave his spy will to her. She didn't take kindly to be suspected of something she didn't do. Especially since she didn't even know what she was suspected of. All she knew is that Bryce went off grid and now he's dead.

"Your duty is to follow orders, Agent Walker." If Director Graham was annoyed by her earlier comment it didn't show. "You can collect your flight information from my assistant."

"May I ask where I'm going?"

"Burbank, California."


	2. Chapter 1

**Inconvenient truths**

A/N: Some explanation is necessary at this point. Yes, this is an AU story, but it's not the one promised a while back. I decided to put that one on the backburner for a while for various reasons. The prologue for this story popped into my head after watching episode 8 of Chuck. Then I watched episode 2x13 of In Plain Sight (don't own it) and that sparked the rest of this story. A lot of research and planning will be required to make this work, so please bear with me if the updates take a little longer than you're used to. I don't own Chuck.

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**Chapter 1**

"**A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." Oscar Wilde.**

Sarah parked the rented Porsche in the street opposite the apartment complex. It was an exact replica of her own back in Washington, but she could tell it wasn't hers. At least she'll get back to it soon enough. This was simple. Walk to the door. Knock. Hand over the package. Recite the scripted condolence message. Leave. She didn't know why she planned it out as a mission. It wasn't a mission. She was a damn delivery girl. An expensive one. Apparently the CIA forgot the country was in the midst of a recession. But she had orders. She always followed orders.

She stepped out of the car and crossed the street. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could return to her hotel room and start calling in favors. She needed to know what Bryce did and why she was being punished for it. She had a hunch that there was more to this assignment than mere reprimand. It's the only thing that made sense and her instinct was never wrong. It's what kept her alive and it's what made her the best. That and deadly accuracy with a throwing knife. She needed to know what Charles Bartowski was to Bryce Larkin. It meant bending the rules. Agents' private lives were just that. Private. It wasn't like her to pry, but she wanted to know what happened during the six months since their mission in Slovenia.

She smoothed a hand over the black tailored jacket.

Everything went exactly as planned. Up to the knock. The door swung open and eyes met chin. At five foot nine inches few men towered over her. With heels barely any did. She tilted her head slightly and there it was. Rich hazel eyes with a glint of caution.

"Can I help you?" Sarah did a quick study of his facial features. No obvious signs of any relation to Bryce. She already knew that from his picture, but she had to be sure.

"Are you Charles Bartowski?" Redundant questions were often necessary to protect the cover. He nodded. "My name is Sarah Walker." A flicker of recognition crossed his face. She had just been made.

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The knife hit the tree inches to his right. She didn't miss. She was a thief, not a killer. He looked oddly impressed as he pulled the knife free. "Nice toss."

_She rose slowly. "Who are you?"_

"_I'm the man who put your father in prison." He took a step closer. "The question is – who are you?"_

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It didn't take a spy to know what Charles Bartowski was thinking. Sarah abandoned the idea to reach for her weapon. She needed to ascertain the situation first. She was going to play it out and see what happened. Besides, she had taken out bigger guys in hand to hand combat. Even in a skirt.

He stepped out of the apartment and closed the door. Burying his hands in his pockets, he cleared his throat.

"What can I do for you, Miss Walker?" He was aware of her status, but didn't let it slip.

"I'm here to deliver a package from Bryce Larkin." She handed him the nondescript envelope containing Bryce's spy will. "I regret to inform you…" Sarah trailed off when she noticed he wasn't listening. He was staring at the object in his hand, clearly deep in thought.

"It's okay," he suddenly spoke. "I know. Was that all?" He wasn't rude, but there was an emotion in his voice she had trouble understanding. It was a mix of sadness and guilt. Now she was more convinced than ever that he had something to do with Bryce's disappearance and perhaps his death. He certainly knew more than any civilian should. Under normal circumstance she wouldn't even consider the possibility that a guy dressed in faded jeans, a Star Wars t-shirt and a pair of Converses could pose a threat to seasoned CIA agent like Bryce, but in this job you learn quickly that things are often not what they seem.

He was staring at her, waiting for a response.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Apparently neither was going to give up the charade.

He acknowledged the statement with a mere nod before disappearing into the apartment. With a "have a nice day" he closed the door in her face. Sarah frowned at it for a moment. What the hell just happened here?

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Sarah was leaning against the car staring at the apartment complex. She ran through the facts again in her mind. Bryce went rogue. Bryce is dead. Graham sent her to inform Charles. He already knew. And he knew who she was. This all fitted together and she was determined to find out how. She had a call to make.

After dispersing the pleasantries, she got straight to the point.

"I need to call in Pakistan."

"_Wow, are you sure? That's a doozie."_ Though Sarah would prefer not getting anyone else involved, she didn't want to do this through the CIA. She'd bet anything that Charles' record was flagged and there was a reason she was sent here without the proper intel. No need to play straight into their hands until she knew what she's dealing with.

"I'm sure."

"_Okay, what do you need?"_ Carina may get her into impossible situations sometimes, but she trusted her. And having leverage didn't hurt either.

"I want you to pull everything you can find on Charles Irving Bartowski. He lives in Burbank, California and I'd guess he's around twenty-eight."

"_That's not much to go on."_

"It's all I've got." She decided to not disclose anything regarding Bryce for now. "Carina, make it look legit. I think he's on the radar."

"_One fake classified DEA investigation coming up. Are you going to tell me what it's about or should I not ask."_

"You know better."

"_No harm in trying. I'll be in touch." _

Sarah was about to get into the car when the ground suddenly shook. Without thinking she took off in the direction of the explosion. Running through the iron gates her suspicions were confirmed. The apartment she visited mere minutes ago was ablaze.

She knew she had to get out of there before the authorities showed up, but her legs felt like led. She was ticked off that she was sent on an assassination mission without being properly briefed. She could have been killed due to a lack of following protocol. Or maybe that was exactly what was supposed to happen. A pair of hazel eyes crossed her mind. Was the CIA certain of his involvement in whatever was going on or was he only a suspect like she evidently was? Did she just unknowingly hand a bomb to an innocent man?

Sirens blaring in the distance brought her back to the present, but it was too late. She felt the effects from the tranquilizer dart kick in and her last conscious awareness was arms catching her.

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A/N: The chapters will get longer as the story progresses. There will be updates on 'Covers' and I will finish 'Anniversaries' soon. Last, but most important, during another bout of insomnia so I did something I've wanted to do for quite a while, I responded to all the reviews received on the prologue. To anonymous, thank you so much for the review. Unfortunately I can't promise that it's a trend that is going to continue, but please know that I read each review and appreciate every single one. You guys are truly great.


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